“What want you?” asked Klatch.
“We seek the white man’s mahdi,” answered Sherif el Habib, solemnly.
“What you give for him?” asked Klatch, not comprehending the question.
It was in vain that Sherif tried to explain.
The more he tried, the more obscure did his meaning appear.
At last Klatch thought he understood, and taking his daughter by the shoulders, gave her a push toward Sherif.
“She is yours; give Klatch beads and feathers.”
Ibrahim laughed heartily at the mistake.
“Uncle, you have bought the dusky maiden; what will you do with her?”
Sherif was amazed.